


Pas de Deux

by OlderEcho



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Attempt at Humor, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Bullying, Classical Music, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Falling In Love, Fictional Institution, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I know, I'm all over the place, M/M, Multi, Performing Arts Institution, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, References to bullying, Romance, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlderEcho/pseuds/OlderEcho
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri has managed to secure a spot in one the best Performing Arts Institutions in the entire world; The Castle Academy. He is finally going to have the chance to dance in the same ballet company as infamous principal dancer, Viktor Nikiforov (who is rumored to be in the last year of his own training). With a backdrop of new friends, anxiety troubles, confidence building and a new budding romance... Yuuri plans to do his very best to show the world just how good he can be.That is to say: really fucking good.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we go: I am not savvy in ballet, so many terms, descriptions, practices, etc. are just googled or made up to the best of my ability (if you're looking for total accuracy regarding the world of ballet, you won't find it here!). The Castle Academy is more or less a fancy, exclusive, boarding-school-esq Institution for the Arts (dance, theatre, music, art, etc) - so the people accepted aren't being 'graded', but moreso groomed to be the best in their respective art forms. The YOI gang are basically all being plopped into a ballet-au. Chapters will be longer, I'm just kicking off with a quick prologue to get us up to speed.
> 
> Not beta'd. Not anything. Just a storyline I can't get out of my head. Hope you enjoy!

 

“Yuuri. It... probably wasn't _that_ bad.” Minako soothed, sipping down the rest of her beer. “You tend to be overly hard on yourself.”

The dancer in question just groaned, thumping his head gently against the table. “Six times.”

“Hah?” Minako cracked open another can.

“Six times,” Yuuri repeated. “I fell six times. Stumbled four. Threw up twice.”

She squinted at him, “...You threw up on stage?”

“Once in a trash can before. And then again after... in the bathroom. Before I met a small blonde demon.”

Minako sighed and rubbed her temple; she could practically feel the headache inching forward. ' _What was he even talking about?'_ “Yuuuuuuurrrrri.....” she shook her head.

He'd been agonizing over it for the past ten hours.

Yuuri had finally gotten his shot. Ever since Minako had taken him to see the great Viktor Nikiforov dance in “The Nutcracker Suite” when he was six - the young Japanese boy knew the ballet was where he wanted to be. _Needed_ to be. The choreography, costumes and music had just been so beautiful... he had to be a part of it.

She could still remember how he'd begged and pleaded with her to teach him the routines. Yuuri began to take her ballet classes much more seriously – and thankfully did well enough in school that all of his free time was dedicated to dancing. He loved it. The practice; the movement, the concentration and discipline needed to move so gracefully made him feel surprisingly grounded. He danced when he was upset, he danced when he was happy, or restless, or sad. But he always danced alone.

Minako had done her best to get him involved in some local shows and recitals, but his near-crippling anxiety and confidence issues made that nearly impossible. But the retired dancer could (quite confidently) say that she had never met or seen a dancer quite as beautiful as Katsuki Yuuri.

 _  
'If only the world could see it, too...'_ she thought to herself, cutting a side glance at her pupil as he wallowed in destructive doubt.

 

\- - - - - -

 

It had been a long shot. He knew that.

Yuuri knew he'd psyche himself out when the time came, and that's _exactly_ what happened.  
  
His routine had started out well enough, but slowly descended into utter travesty when he messed up a turn. It should have been a simple recovery. In fact, half the judges watching may not have even docked him any points for it, had he been able to continue.  
  


_Ballonné, pas... Chaînés..._

_  
_ And then he fell.

  
Then he slipped.

  
He fell again.

  
Stumble.  
  
  
_Bourre'e... Coupé jeté en tournant..._

  
Fall. Stumble. Fall. Fall.

  
_Développé ... Pas de chat..._

  
Fall. Slip.

  
It hadn't been good. He'd been excused off the stage politely, and that was that. He'd thrown up in the bathroom, and tearfully called his mother to admit his failure - before getting verbally harassed by a skinny blonde boy, who chastised him for being weak.  
  
It had been a long day.

Yuuri received a notice five days later 'thanking' him for his interest in the Castle Academy for Arts, and explaining that he had been placed on the school's extensive Wait-list.  
  
His family was as supportive as ever, and tried to get him to see the positive angle to his experience; it wasn't a 'no', despite not being a 'yes' either. Minako was also quick to approach him with a list of other places that he could still audition for.  
  
But Yuuri wanted the Castle Academy.  
  
It was world renown; known for turning out some of the best artistic talent of the past decade. From singers, to musicians, actors, dancers and artists. It wasn't so much a school as it was an institution – a place where the best-of-the-best came to train, to perform, and then debut into the world. Over 80% of their 'graduates' always went on to achieve great critical acclaim and success... or at the very least, made a comfortable living doing what they loved most. It was the _only_ place Yuuri wanted to be.  


And it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that Viktor had been a student of the Castle Academy since his debut in “The Nutcracker Suite”.

  
He'd been 10 years old at the time, and already hailed as a Wunderkind; a child prodigy who was undoubtedly going to go on and become one of the greatest dancers of his generation. Yuuri had been just as enraptured as everyone else when he'd watched the touring production, and that had fueled his naive dream of one day being able to dance on the same stage as Viktor. His idol. This was rumoured to be Viktor's last year. He would be turning 25, and performing one last time with the Castle ballet company before taking his leave. There was no doubt (in anyone's mind) that ballet companies all over the world would be vying for his attention. Viktor would have his pick of roles in any location he wished, for whatever amount they were willing to throw at him.  
  
The stakes for Yuuri landing a spot in that same Academy had never been higher, with so much on the line for his dream... and he'd messed it all up. He'd let himself, and his family, down.  
  
So you can imagine that it came as quite a surprise when Yuuri opened his email two months later to see a message from the famed institution.

They were offering him a spot.

Yuuri had Minako _and_ his mother both read it just to reassure him it wasn't some delusional fantasy. It seemed that two of their prospective students had dropped out at the last minute; he and another candidate on the Wait-list had been the next in line. Oh-so-suddenly... his dream was still within reach.

  
He spent the next month rearranging all of his plans, packing, and preparing... all the while getting supportive pep-talks from every single person in his life. Scratch that. From every single person in Hasetsu. He appreciated the sentiment, but it really only made him that much more nervous. Yuuri knew he had to do everything possible to show everyone _exactly_ why he loved to dance. And as it so often did – his excitement mixed with his anxiety, and what little confidence he managed to hold onto, was peppered with pure humility. He swore to himself to keep his head down, work hard, and learn from his betters.

  
And as Katsuki Yuuri boarded his train, and waved goodbye to his family – his mother's parting words drifted through the back of his mind...

  
“ _You'll make it happen, Yuuri.” she chuckled, patting his cheek fondly. “You'll turn it around. You're a Katsuki, after all. You were born to make history.”_

 

 


	2. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Alright, so I time skip a lot... since Yuuri is still adjusting to the program, so bear with me. And again, I've no real solid knowledge of ballet performance - just kind of winging it! More characters introduced in this chapter. Fear not! Everyone's part will eventually get bigger as the story progresses! There is also reference to some of the boys using 'pointe', and while that is not normally standard practice, these babes are just so hardcore that (for the purposes of this AU) some of them will be using pointe-shoe from time to time! 
> 
> The music for the Yuuri's review performance is, of course, none other than the theme of [Yuri On Ice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQnxd2BRv_c).
> 
> Not beta'd, not anything. Just fun! Thanks for reading!

 

 

_He was dancing on stage. A classical piece he couldn't quite recall, but it was... beautiful. The stage lights glimmering and reflecting his costume – the audience enraptured and completely silent as he moved about the stage and then... a hand. On his waist. Arms encircling him._

_Yuuri turned to see Viktor's smiling face; reassuring, calm, as they began to dance together. The audience clapped at the arrival, even more invested in the duo on stage as they glided from movement to movement, like two swans on the-_

  
“YUURI!”

  
The Japanese dancer let out an emasculating scream as he jolted up in bed. Phichit was by his side, laughing and nudging him, “Sorry, sorry! You were ignoring your alarm. I've been trying to get you up for the past ten minutes!” his roommate explained happily, “Come on! You don't want to be late for our classes, do you?”

As Yuuri's heart began to settle to a normal pace again, he took in his surroundings.... _new room. Roommate. Castle Academy._ “Right.” he smiled back, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  
He'd been exhausted, of course. After arriving at the Castle Academy yesterday morning – he'd been caught up in the energetic whirlwind of his (apparently) new roommate: Phichit. He was also a ballet dancer, and was in his second year of training with the academy. He seemed incredibly excited to meet Yuuri – and had spent all yesterday dragging him around; giving him a tour of all the different facilities and programs, before finally bringing them back to their shared room.

'Room' was a polite term. It seemed more like a small apartment; it came equipped with a tiny kitchen, a sitting room, bathroom, and finally two bedrooms. Yuuri's room had a nice view overlooking the lake and jogging trail that surrounded the dormitory side of the grounds. It really was a beautiful place. Completely separate from the bustling city (the nearest one being miles and miles away).

  
Yuuri wondered if he'd begin to feel a bit cooped up at the institute, with no place else to go – but Phichit seemed ready to assure him that there was a shuttle-bus that left from the institute grounds every morning, and returned every evening; so anyone so- inclined (and with free time on their hands), could venture into the city for the day if they wished.

 _  
'Not a prison, at least...'_ he thought bemusedly to himself. Yuuri finished washing his face, got dressed, and grabbed his duffel-bag before following Phichit out.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“Ah... they're here.” Phichit muttered, nudging Yuuri in the side.

  
They'd both been slowly warming up for the past hour; stretching and preparing themselves for a long day ahead... when the 'stars' of the program arrived. Yuuri blinked, watching as _the_ Viktor Nikiforov strode into the studio. Other dancers were already 'squeaking' and gushing as they welcomed him back, and wished him 'good luck' on his final year. Viktor laughed and smiled brightly, accepting their well-wishes with the grace of someone who was _quite_ used to such praise and admiration.

Yuuri swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat up as he watched his idol interact with everyone. He was so familiar, so charming. _'Maybe he can teach me the secret to his confidence...'_ Yuuri thought glumly, standing up and doing one last stretch. Phichit followed him, watching Yuuri (who was watching Viktor) with keen interest.  
  


“Wanna say hi?” he asked.

  
“What?!” Yuuri flinched, “N-N-No way! There's no way. I can't approach him yet. And he's- ... he looks busy.” he trailed off, knowing it was a lame excuse. Their class hadn't started, and the dancers were still socializing amidst themselves.

  
Phichit huffed out a breath, and rolled his eyes. “Hey! Viktoooooooor!” he called loudly, flailing his arm up into the air.  
  
  
Yuuri wanted to melt into the floor, as Viktor Nikiforov looked in their direction.

  
The Russian dancer seemed to hone in on Yuuri for a moment – their eyes meeting for a few seconds, before Viktor was waving back enthusiastically, “Hello Phichit!” he called, beginning to walk over. Yuuri tried to keep his whole body from shaking in fear (or was it anticipation?). Viktor's small entourage was following along, and before Yuuri could blink, they were standing right in front of them.

  
“Welcome back, Viktor.” Phichit beamed, “Excited to give your final year everything you've got?”

  
Viktor laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “You say that as if I haven't tried hard any _other_ year.” he teased, cutting his eyes over to Yuuri – who was still standing there, blatantly staring, not saying a word. Viktor smiled, “Oh? A new student?”

  
“This is Yuuri Katsuki! He was just accepted this year. We're roommates, so I'm showing him the ropes.” Phichit explained, patting Yuuri on the back.

  
Viktor threw his head back and laughed, “Oh? Another Yuuri! Does that get you fired up, _kotyonok_?” he grinned, glancing behind him to one of his companions in particular.

  
When Yuuri finally focused on the other people around them, he found himself looking at a familiar face. “Ah! The blonde demon!” he exclaimed, pointing at the young teen standing just behind Viktor.

  
“HAH?! What did you call me, asshole!?” Yuri snarled, stepping forward – glaring hard at the other. Something seemed to register in his head then, as he blinked, “Hey, I know you. You're that little piggy who cried in the bathroom after your pathetic audition.” he scoffed, looking Yuuri up and down. “I can't believe _you_ got in here. This is an institution for training professionals, you know. Not coddling babies.”

  
Yuuri blushed and drew his eyes downward; it hadn't been his proudest moment, no. But he'd been vulnerable and tired. He opened his mouth to reply, but someone else beat him to it...

  
“That's not nice, Yuri. Sometimes the pressure gets to all of us, right? I seem to remember you shedding a few tears when you were younger.” Viktor cooed, patting Yuri on the head.

  
The short Russian batted his hand away, “Those were _frustrated_ tears! Completely different.” he argued.  
  


“Yes, yes, whatever you say.” Viktor mused, glancing back toward Yurri. “Hmmm. Having two Yuri's is going to get confusing though.” he tapped his chin in thought, before his eyes lit up excitedly, “Ah! I've got it! We'll just call you Yurio!” Viktor declared, pointing at the short blonde.

  
“WHAT?!” the other yelled, “Why do I have to get the nickname?! I've been here longer! Why don't we just call him “Crybaby” and continue to call ME Yuri?!”

  
Another boy stepped forward, laughing - “I don't know. Yurio seems to fit you more. Though 'blonde demon' does have a nice ring to it.” he looked at Yuuri kindly, and nodded, “I'm Christophe. It's my final year too, though evidently no one seems to make as big a deal of it...” he teased, nudging Viktor who just laughed.

  
Christophe stepped forward and took Yuuri's hand – placing a kiss to the back of it, “If you need anyone to show you around later, please come and find me. I'd be happy to... lend you a hand.” he winked.

  
Yuuri blushed and yanked his hand back, cradling it to his chest as he laughed nervously, “Ha... y-yeah... that's- ... um... yes, thank you... I'm... good for now.” he stammered.

  
“I can only presume that – since no one is warming up – you have all achieved _perfection_ and will endure the next eight hours flawlessly.” A crisp female voice broke through the ruckus.

  
Everyone turned, dead silent, and watched as Lilia Baranovskaya entered the room. She was just as poised and precise as she was on stage. Muttering their apologies, everyone dispersed and headed to different parts of the room. Yuuri blinked, “Woah... I didn't know Lilia Baranovskaya was the instructor....” he whispered.  
  


“Eh?” Phichit quirked a brow, “Wow, you really didn't do much research before coming here, did you Yuuri?” he teased, nudging him in the side. “This place only hires the best-of-the-best. Apparently the ballet-program used to be kind of mediocre until Ms. Baranovskaya was brought in. They say she completely turned everything around. She's also the one who debuted Viktor into the program.”

  
At the mention of the Russian dancer, Yuuri's eyes found him once more. He was back with Christophe and Yurio – still chatting as they warmed up, all in good spirits despite Lilia's frigid presence at the front of the room. He plopped himself onto the ground again, continuing to stretch his legs as he stole glances at the impressive group.

  
He felt his cheeks warming up. He'd actually _spoken_ to Viktor (kinda). They'd been introduced, and now, Viktor knew who he was. Yuuri silently thanked Phichit over and over in his head – a small, pleased smile forming on his lips. It was a start! ' _Maybe they'd be able to become friends. Friends practiced together, right?... That could lead to more time together, and Viktor could help him with t-'_

  
Yuuri's brain stopped as a lithe shadow fell over him. He looked up from his position on the floor to see Lilia standing over him; arms crossed, straight faced. “You're new.” she hummed.

  
“A-Ah! Yes! I'm- ... Yuuri Katsuki.” he explained, jumping to his feet to make her introduction... only slightly cowed by the fact she was _still_ taller and more imposing than him. “I'm honoured to be here.” he finished, bowing slightly to her.

  
She eyed him silently for a moment, before speaking crisply, “Katsuki. I remember. Your audition was terrible.” she hummed, “You really stood out.”

  
Yuuri felt shame completely wash over him; he kept his head down slightly, not able to look into her eyes. Instead, he was acutely aware of all the other dancers in the room watching their exchange with silent interest. They would _all_ know his circumstances now...

  
“Listen.” she barked briskly – forcing Yuuri to finally meet her eyes. She stepped forward, and tilted his chin upward, “I don't permit pupils who aren't here to work hard. If you don't show me any improvement, I will not hesitate to recommend your dismissal from the institute and this program,” she explained bluntly. “You should be grateful that those two other dancers fell under circumstances that prevented them from taking their well-earned spots.  
  
  
“...I- .... I am grateful!” Yuuri answered with another nod. “And I'm going to work as hard as I can to become better!”  
  
  
Lilia stared at Yuuri for another minute or two, before she stepped away from him. “See that you do. I'll accept nothing less.” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked back toward the front of the studio. The rest of the dancers (who had been dead-quiet while watching the exchange) began to murmur and chat again as they warmed up.

  
Yuuri had to wonder what exactly he'd gotten himself into.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Yuuri and Phichit both collapsed as soon as they got home. The first day was always the 'worst' – according to Phichit – as Lilia drove them as hard as possible in an attempt to gauge their stamina. Yuuri had (much to everyone's surprise) held up well. Lilia even went so far as to comment on it, and not in an unkind way.  
  


At least he had _something_ to be proud of.

  
But that didn't mean he wasn't just as exhausted as everyone else. “So, all in all. How was your first day?” Phichit asked, barely opening his eyes as he lay sprawled on the sofa.

  
“Embarrassing and draining... but... I'm optimistic.” Yuuri answered honestly, even managing a small smile. “Though I think I need to start working out again. I'm a bit out of shape.” he admitted. It was clear that Lilia wasn't going to be 'taking any prisoners' (so to speak), and Yuuri would have to really step up his game to, not only impress her, but win the respect of his fellow dancers.

  
The whispers and murmurs had already begun, of course. During their breaks, Yuuri could feel more people glancing his way. His 'terrible' audition was apparently the source of a lot of speculation, as others tried to guess what he'd done to fail so miserably. Some of the words hurt. He couldn't lie. But Yuuri had always had a warped sense of determination...

  
The more people expected him to fail, the harder he wanted to try. Just because he might have some confidence issues, or trouble with anxiety... didn't mean he was a pushover. He still had his pride. And he was going to prove them wrong.

  
Though admittedly... he'd been too embarrassed to even glance in Viktor's direction for the rest of their class. The Russian dancer was likely not thinking too highly of him either. And Yuuri didn't think he'd be able to stand seeing any sort of judgement or disappointment in those bright blue eyes.  
  


“Are you hungry, Phichit?” he asked, turning around to look at his roommate as he opened the fridge.  
  


Phichit was fast asleep. Yuuri smiled and abandoned his food-search in the kitchen, to cover up his friend with a blanket. “Don't be mad at me if you wake up with a sore back after sleeping on the sofa,” he mumbled, heading back to the kitchen. He'd start planning his work-out regime tomorrow.

 

 

 

Phichit sighed, standing over Yuuri again the following morning. “This isn't going to become a regular morning routine, is it?” he hummed. His roommate was dead asleep, clutching some weird poodle-stuffed-toy to his chest. “Oh well! Can't be helped!” he smiled, turning his phone around, and taking a selfie of himself standing over a sleeping-Yuuri while giving a peace-sign up to the camera.

  
Once that was done, Phichit jumped right on top of the older boy and shouted “Yuuuuuuri!!!!”  
  


Another selfie was posted on his Instagram shortly after: showing a visibly startled and disgruntled Yuuri in the background, and a mischievous Phichit in the foreground.  
  


In fact, Yuuri was in the middle of demanding Phichit take the photos down – when Viktor and Christophe caught them on their way to the dance studio.

  
The Japanese dancer seemed to stop his complaining after Viktor called the photos 'cute'.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Yuuri spent the next four months getting his head back into dancing. His dream of dancing with Viktor was still ever-present in the back of his mind... but if he wanted to _have_ that chance, he knew he had to buckle down, and shelf his school-boy-crush for the time being.  
  


He managed to break his initial exhaustion after the first two weeks (adjusting to such a rigorous schedule again took some getting used to) – and got back into a routine of working out in the morning before their studio time began, so he was nice and limber warmed up by the time Lilia arrived.  
  


Their classes were 8 hours a day, five days a week. Saturdays were spent as 'free rehearsal' time where performers were left instructor-less to spend the time however they saw fit. And Sundays, it seemed, were the only days of rest. The institution was always the quietest then, as many took the opportunity to sleep for the majority of the morning and afternoon – only venturing out to socialize a bit in the evening before going right back to bed.

  
Yuuri, however, utilized his Sundays for private practice in the studio. The empty room that was full of mirrors and balance bars that gave him the perfect view of his form; he felt more calm and focused being able to practice alone. Their first performance-reviews were just around the corner... and Yuuri had been working diligently to make sure his was perfect. He didn't want Lilia (or anyone else, for that matter) to question his spot in the program.

  
There was going to be a final theatrical performance at the end of the year, after all. Yuuri was aiming for at _least_ a second supporting role in the closing show. _Viktor's final show..._

  
“Yuuri...”

  
A familiar sharp, female voice broke Yuuri's concentration, as he awkwardly toppled out of the pirouette he'd been doing. “M-Ms. Baranovskaya!” he stood up straight, and bowed to her, “I'm sorry, were you- ... did you need this space?”

  
She didn't answer immediately. Instead she just stared at him from the doorway; she was dressed in regular clothes, and still had her coat on. It was fairly evident she hadn't arrived to use the studio. “It's Sunday, Yuuri. Why are you in here?” she asked, taking a few steps in.  
  


“I'm... very sorry.” Yuuri blushed, managing to lift his head to look her in the eyes, “I've gotten into the habit of coming in here to practice. I- ... it's just... no one else was ever here, so... I thought it wouldn't do any harm.”  
  
  
Her face revealed nothing. Lilia only stared at him for a few more beats, before she shrugged off her coat, “Your brisé was off. Do it again.”

  
“M-M-My... my brisé...” Yuuri gaped at her, as his mind finally caught up – and registered what Lilia 'taking off her coat' actually meant. “Wait, you're staying?!”

  
Lilia draped her coat over a nearby folding chair, and rolled her shoulders as she met his gaze again – walking toward him with the poise and grace of a feline predator. He shivered at the thought. “You have been... improving. In our classes.” she admitted with a curt nod. “I approve of any protege who takes their advancement and betterment seriously. It's an admirable trait. And your stamina is impressive... I'm glad to see you put it to use.”

  
She reached forward, and positioned Yuuri properly; bending his knee, positioning his back straighter, and leveling the line of his arms.  
  


“Now. Again.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“Alright. Take a break. Twenty minutes.” Lilia barked to their ensemble. She didn't even look as if she was breaking a sweat... unlike her pupils.  
  


Phichit and Yuuri collapsed in their usual corner and downed as much water as they could. “Taskmaster...” Phichit whined, “Cruel mistress...”

  
The Japanese danseur just chuckled, “You can't fault someone for trying to get the best out of us.” he dabbed his forehead with his small towel.

  
“I can fault them. Don't tell me I can't. I'm _tired_....” Phichit continued melodramatically, flinging himself down so his head was pillowed on Yuuri's thigh. “Huh. Even though you've toned up, your thighs are still kinda squishy, eh Yuuri?”  
  


Yuuri laughed and flicked Phichit in the forehead, “Shut up. Or you can use someone else's thigh as a pillow.”  
  


“Yuuri."  
  


Both teens looked up to see Lilia standing over them. Phichit gulped and quickly sat up ramrod straight – looking anxiously between his instructor and his roommate.  
  


“You didn't eat during the last break. I can't have you fainting or collapsing in the next part.” Lilia continued, extending an apple toward him.

  
Yuuri blinked at her, stunned only for a second, before he smiled and accepted the apple. “T-Thank you. I'm sorry, I forgot to bring my snacks today. I'll remember tomorrow.”

  
Lilia rolled her eyes and walked away, “Tomorrow's Saturday, Yuuri.”

  
“Ah! Er, I mean... Monday! ...Monday I'll remember. Thank you,” he called after her with an awkward laugh.

  
He took an enthusiastic bite out of the apple, humming as he began to devour it. He _had_ been hungry. The dancer turned to continue speaking with Phichit, but noticed his friend was giving him a funny, albeit disbelieving, look.  
  


In fact, now that he noticed... everyone was staring at him; some whispering and gaping like he'd committed some great offense.  
  


“W-What's-... why is everyone staring at me? Should I not have taken it?” Yuuri asked his roommate in a hushed voice; that familiar blush was beginning to creep into his cheeks again.  
  


Phichit shook his head, “Ah, no... I mean... I've never seen Ms. Baranovskaya give _water_ to anyone... let alone an apple.” he explained in awe, “How did you get into her good-books so quickly?! I thought she had it out for you.”

  
“I'm sure she's given out... water.... or apples before. She just doesn't want me to die.” Yuuri rationalized, taking another bite of the fruit.

  
Phichit relaxed back against one of the mirrored walls, thumbing through something on his phone, “Well, come to think of it. I think I saw her give an apple to Viktor once.” he paused, “But not so much 'give' as 'throw'... with the words ' _you will eat this_ '... and then some kind of curse in Russian.”

  
At the mention of Viktor, Yuuri glanced over in his direction. To his surprise, Viktor, Christophe and Yuri(o) were all staring at him with serious contemplation. He offered them a weak smile, and a dorky wave – only to have all three turn away and begin talking again.

 

 

“Tch. What is that woman thinking!? Giving an apple to that piggy? ...He could still stand to lose a pound or two.” Yurio huffed, occupied with bending and adjusting the shank on one of his ballet shoes.

  
Christophe was lying on his stomach, propping his head up with his hands as he looked between his two companions, “Oh? You sound a little jealous, Yurio.”

  
“ _Ha_! Of that crybaby? Go get some glasses, old man, your eyes are beginning to fail you.” the Russian punk shot back with a smirk. “If Ms. Baranovskaya wants to play mother-hen to a crybaby, that's her business.”

  
“You're being very quiet, Viktor.” Christophe continued, easily letting Yurio's jab slide right off his back, “Something on your mind?”

  
Viktor was still looking over toward Yuuri and Phichit; his icy blue eyes sharp with focus and... intrigue? _'That's new...'_ Christophe thought to himself, as his friend finally answered, “Why Yuuri Katsuki?” he wondered aloud. “Lilia is never so... generous.”

  
Since their initial meeting, Yuuri had been just another company member to Viktor. His dancing didn't seem too impressive so far, and that was enough for Viktor's mind to simply 'write him off' as one of the danseurs who would eventually support him by dancing in the chorus of any and all productions. But now he had to wonder if his initial impression was wrong. After all, it was well known that Lilia Baranovskaya was one of the best – and strictest – instructors in the world. She didn't throw her time or attention on lost causes.

  
“Oh?... I know that look. You're going to try and find out what makes that sweet boy tick, hm?” Christophe laughed, stretching his left leg back into the air and bending it until the toe of his pointe nearly touched the back of his head.

  
Viktor smiled, and finally broke his eyes away from Yuuri, “Maybe. Can't be too careful with competition, after all.”

  
“Alright. Line up.” Lilia's voice echoed through the room. All the dancers groaned softly as they broke back into their rows, and prepared to get themselves through the next few hours of her coaching.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Yuuri couldn't sleep.  


The performance reviews were on Monday, and he could feel his anxiety beginning to flare with the mere thought of performing in front of his peers... nevermind showing Lilia how far he'd come, especially with her extra coaching.

  
It hadn't helped that his fellow dancers now looked at him in a different light. They had moved on from writing him off as the class klutz, to being a bit affronted that Yuuri still hadn't dropped out or failed yet. They were beginning to look at him like... competition. Though he hadn't heard anyone admit it yet. Most of them just figured he was sucking up to Lilia in some way to fall into her good graces.

  
His hard work was still going unnoticed, it would seem.  
  


But he'd change that.

  
Getting up and out of bed, Yuuri glanced toward his clock to see it was almost 5am. No one else would likely be awake yet. He showered quickly, got changed, and grabbed his gear before heading out. He made his way down the familiar corridors and catwalks – taking a moment to admire the gorgeous scenery of the grounds that encompassed the institute. Mornings really were the most peaceful... probably his favourite time of day. No pressure, no judgement, nothing to live up to. A brand new day was always a second chance.

  
The door to the theatre space creaked as he opened it; the house lights were off, but the stage lights were on – almost as if silently welcoming him to the space. Yuuri smiled to himself, and headed down the isle toward the stage. He hopped up onto it, and began to get himself set up; ballet shoes, music, stretching, walking the stage.

  
His mind was jogging back to his time here; the looks and whispers of his peers over the span of a few months, the sheer presence of his idol and the weight of having him in the same room. He still got a bit fluttery when he thought about the older Russian boy. They'd barely spoken. And when they did interact, Viktor seemed to treat Yuuri just as politely as he did everyone else. Though there was something in his smile that still didn't ring completely true. And he couldn't put his finger on why. There was a chance Viktor just kept himself professional, and never bothered to build personal (or close) relationships with his fellow dancers. With the exception of Christophe and Yurio, of course.  


Yuuri would give anything to be as close to Viktor as they were.

  
He'd have to work on _that_ goal once these performance reviews were over. One hurdle at a time.

  
Checking his mobile, he realized that he'd been warming up for nearly an hour. “Well... no time like the present.” Yuuri smiled to himself, walking to the side of the stage to set his phone down and out of the way. He began to queue up his music, completely unawares of the figure standing in the back of the darkened theatre.

  
  
Viktor had been on his way out for his morning jog when he'd spotted Yuuri. Curious (and not used to seeing anyone else up at such an ungodly hour), the Russian had followed behind at a distance. His curiosity peaked when the other dancer ducked into the Castle theatre. He had little choice but to follow; Viktor always did love a good mystery.

  
He suspected the creaky theatre door would give him away, too... but Yuuri didn't seem to notice. He was zoned out – too busy stretching and getting himself ready. Viktor took a seat in the back row, watching with mild interest. Yuuri seemed to be rehearsing for his performance review. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see the Japanese danseur demonstrate _how_ exactly he got into this program.

_  
There must have been a reason._

  
His eyes focused as Yuuri finished setting up his music, and moved toward the center of the stage.

  
The sound of piano echoed through the auditorium, and Yuri cupped his hands in front of his body – slowly lifting them up toward the ceiling, his head following before he gracefully lowered his arms into an open position.

  
He lifted a leg, extending it slowly out before rounding it back behind him; hands lifted again, before launching himself into a smooth pirouette.

 

_Fouetté en tournant en dehors._

 

As the piano kicked off and other instruments began to trickle into the piece – Yuuri's dancing became far more fluid. Intensified.

 

_A grand jeté._

 

 _'Beautiful..'_ Viktor's brain supplied. He sat up a bit straighter in his seat, watching with keen interest as Yuuri made his way around the stage in perfect time to his music. Despite having never seen it before – the dance seemed to be very clear. It was about a struggle... someone working hard, overcoming obstacles in their life... and doing so alone. It was achingly personal, but Viktor felt he (and many others) could relate.

  
The music arrangement itself was breathtaking, and Viktor felt a near stab of jealousy that Yuuri would have the honour of performing to it first. He'd have to ask him for it after the reviews were complete.

 _  
'But what good would it do me then?'_ Viktor's mind supplied, causing him to huff out an amused breath. He couldn't take his eyes off Yuuri; the piece would forever be cemented as his, regardless of whether Viktor or any other dancer tried to steal it.

  
As Viktor felt himself getting more and more swept up in Yuuri's performance, he was struck with a strong desire to know the teen. What _was_ his story? How did he get Lilia Baranovskaya on his side, after such an inauspicious start? Why didn't he dance like _this_ during their ensemble sessions? What was holding him back?

  
_Why did this piece ache of loneliness and determination all at once? Did he have a family? Did he have a partner? A girlfriend who broke his heart? Or a boyfriend uninterested in ballet? Who was Yuuri dancing for?_ It was almost... overwhelming; how badly he wanted to know.

 

_Hortensia... Pas de Bourrée Dessus... Arabesque penché... Piqué..._

 

Viktor's heart fluttered when Yuuri began a rather difficult step sequence around the stage when the music accelerated in it's pace, before he finished it off...

 

_Seven Double and one Triple Fouettés en Tournant..._

 

As the music trickled out with the quiet, solo piano again... the theatre fell silent. Viktor's eyes stayed on Yuuri as he breathed heavily – slumping his body back into a more natural position as he walked over toward his music and his discarded phone.  
  
  
The sound of the theatre door creaking drew Yuuri's attention – but when he squinted and peered into the dark house of the theatre seats, he saw no one. The door was still closed.

  
“Mmm... a haunted theatre?” he mused aloud, taking a long drink of water. He took a moment to stretch again, before resetting the music, “Alright.” Yuuri sighed. “One more time.”  
  


As the piano queued up again, drifting through the empty theatre – Viktor stood just outside the doors, leaning against the wall, wondering what the hell he'd just witnessed... and whether or not to tell his friends that Yuuri Katsuki was a brilliant ballet dancer.

  
_'Keep it a secret,'_ his brain chimed in, _'It's always more exciting when someone does the unexpected...'_  
  


Everyone would see it on Monday.

 

And Viktor couldn't wait.

 


End file.
